Sex Arcade

The hulking monster of slime and goo wrestled me to the wall of the small video booth, pinning my flailing arms up to my head while working my legs open with his. I fought back as best I could, being slammed over and over again with every earnest thrust to break free from his grasp. But with me being short and pudgy and vulnerable and he being taller and heavier and in command, my battle was lost long before it had even begun.

“Stop fighting me, boy,” the strong monster growled in his victorious glory. He was an ugly-handsome monster with a strong muscular chest and a coat of hair that covered his naked frame with a trimmed beard that attached itself to a swell of speared strands attempting to grow back atop his head. He wanted me to stop; give up and give in so he could claim my binky with his rigid cock, a prize that wasn’t rightfully his to begin with through trickery and deceit as he snatched me into the manmade cave like a random kidnapper for ransom by the towel wrapped around my waist.

His belly rounded; his cock thick and hard, eager and raring to go pressed against me with his cigar-stained breath rolling across my collarbone with scruffy kisses along my freshly shaven cheeks urging me to concede. Many of us dream of being taken like this, by a man like him, especially trolls like me.

 

No. No!

If I gave into his nuzzled advances, I was done, a goner. If I resisted heavily enough, he might let go and let me go and let me leave in peace—then he might not. Worst things have happened in places like these. Worst things.

Every predator must have his prey, right?

Just a few hours earlier, I was in a completely different headspace, a very good place that was far from the likes of here. So far away in fact, that this here, in this cavern among wolves, wasn’t even a thought much less a distant one. Happy I was with life. I had just finished grading papers. After that I lucked up on stroking the last key of my keyboard meaning after four months of hard work I was done with the second draft of my dystopian novel. Four months of redrafted work ending with a new period. I was proud and happy and satisfied and preparing dinner for us when he called and told me everything that happened over the course of the day, and with a hailstorm of crying and cursing spewing from my chapped lips I smashed the receiver of my late grandmother’s old rotary phone at the destruction of my modest world.

“I love you,” he said the last time I saw him this past weekend. I was stretched out on the bed after he was done having his way with me. He was sitting on the edge of the bed pulling up his flannel bottoms with his back turned towards me. He muttered it in such a way that it was a rather dawning revelation to him, and when he turned to me and I saw the startling smile written across his face, I was certain it was.

I should have been ecstatic at the news. Guys like me aren’t loved or wanted like that. Guys like me are the scum left over after the last call of life, something for others to ward off the loneliness with. Guys too awkward to move to the beat, too discomfit to even have two left feet much less move against the crowd; guys too eccentric in our own world of imagination to have a decent grip on reality. That once our bills are paid and our fantasy world games are played, we become our righteous hobbits and gremlins and trolls out to fight our evildoers. We don’t actually act—that itself is a deed too dangerous. That is what imagination is for. We play it out in our mind for the heroes we want to become to destroy the nemesis we despise even though they go on to exists without a scratch or a blemish from us.

I should’ve rejoiced in his declaration, his love for me. Guys like me rarely get such a victory. But I didn’t. Instead, I let out a poor sigh. The last thing an educated country boy that still lives in his hometown ever wants to hear are those words, especially coming from another man, a ruggedly gorgeous man like him. It makes a hard life real again with no escapism to choose from. No magic wand to ward off such a cunning spell. No lightsabor to swing against evil arms of worship. A friendly visitor, sure; that is fine; but a lover to me he could never be. My elderly neighbors close around me can delude their watery eyes into believing that he was just an old buddy. A lover? Not here. Not without pitchforks led by the very married churchgoing men that ripped away at my virginity and beyond. Not in the house of my late grandfather, the snake-charming preacher. Not without grand protest.

“I love you, too, bozo,” I hiccupped without thought and he snickered, only for him to call me before I squeezed the lemons over the herbed tagliatelle to tell me that he wasn’t on the road making his way up here. He got married instead, today of all days, in a courthouse three counties off, to an old sweetheart. She wasn’t pregnant, he assured me. She just threatened to leave him if he didn’t make an honest woman out of her. She was growing old. His family already suspected him of being queer: near fifty and never married, no kids. Tonight, at the motel near the bypass was the start of their honeymoon, so…

I barely had a moment to sob when the phone rang again. I wanted to cuss the bastard out if he was still trying to make his way down this weekend. Married men are pigs. It wasn’t him. It was Orlando the Younger, the thirty-four-year-old. Orlando was passing through and wanted to stop by for a visit. I chuckled nervously. Had it been a moment earlier, I would have gladly told him no and my reasons why, and that he needed to continue back on his journey from where he hailed or move another county seat over to see about his ailing mother. I gave him my woes instead. The best way to get over a bastard is to find a new one to get under…and this time remember: all men are natural-born bastards. Orlando suggested that we make a night of it at the adult arcade that the big rigs often come through to visit. Let’s fuck the night away with some nasty cross-country truck-driving motherfuckers!

We hadn’t even made it through the parking lot yet before a few rancid truckers homed in on my friend. That was nothing new; rather it was to be expected. Though his ability to forget about me so easily for a snaggletooth smile and a pair of meaty pecs sporting some chest hairs sort of was.

Orlando and I met off the chat line a year earlier. I had come across his profile many times over the years but never sent a private message or a request to connect out of fretfulness. Guys like me…. That wasn’t to say I didn’t hit repeat a thousand times and eased many of hard-ons with his strong sexy voice buzzing in my ear. His description sounded like a cum-drooling wet dream: half-white, half-Latino, six-five, pure muscle, and an uninhibited freak with a very enormous dick. A dream, I bit my middle-aged lip. But when I got up the nerve to connect and we met at up the gas station down the road, the little advertisement found on those commercial porn sites flashed through my mind: “Too Ugly for Grindr” with a ridiculous big swinging uncut dick that I was surprised he hardly ever used other than to grab and to stroke. This time, inside the arcade after some gargantuan bear mauled his hungry love-chute red and raw into globs of swollen guts, I was left standing in the doorway of one of these lounges filled with these elongated padded seats watching this, watching my sated friend stoke out this glistening white cum that left these long beautiful streaks etching towards his face under the black light when I mistakenly turned away and met my doom in the small video booth.

“Thanks buddy.” My captor monster heaved after he let me slip out the door.

I emerged from the hole and stumbled out.

I tried not to bring any attention to myself hugging the dividers making up the booths, but I staggered into the aisle, the flow of wandering traffic, into this wild-looking redhead trucker.

“Look at this bitch in his gargles!” The bastard chortled to no one in particular looking at my glasses and the remnants of the compromise I made with my apocalyptic assailant: Steer clear of my binky and I’ll let you fuck my face.

“No need to get the attendants riled up.” My monster softened his tone after he realized I wasn’t into his rough role playing. This, before he ended my imprisonment ten minutes later by spraying a boatload of cum into my lenses.

I ignore the spiteful redhead making my way over to the lockers where I fished out some change. As much spit as I gave to that cock in the booth and with as much residual saliva I had pooled in the front of my mouth, the back of my throat was left incredibly dry. Back in the day, water fountains ran free for this cure. Nowadays, a decade and a half later, a profit is a profit, right? …unless I wanted to duck my head under a filthy bathroom faucet!

I used my dollars and leftover coins to get a water and some juice and a candy bar and a bag of fruit gummies from the vending machine. As I stood there devouring my snacks, I watched my friend waltz out of the abyss the proudest of men wiping his crotch down with a wet rag. Orlando wanted to brag about his latest fuck, the guy with the heavy-duty cock ring and equally accompanying cock. I let him as if I wasn’t already privy to his tryst back in that room. He asked me about my fun as well. I brushed over my lone action of the night. Avoiding getting rape was definitely a mood killer.

I looked on at the truckers strolling in as they winked back in my direction. I wasn’t the object of their affection obviously. Guys like me never are. Orlando—it was forever about Orlando: the tall and unique, the ethnic muscle god, the big dick power bottom. I nodded at the passersby like it wasn’t a mind trick—that tall and muscled was with short and pudgy—as I unleashed my hard swift hand over his rock-hard derriere claiming him as my boy. Whack! Orlando jumped back at the shock. He tried laughing it off, but his eyes asked if I wanted to fuck him now or later. (Orlando was an insatiable bottom. It was more like I could fuck him now and then later.)

I laughed the answer in my head. Tonight was a dick night. I needed it and wanted it and after I got my binky satisfied I could return the favor in spades on his brown ass.

I finished up my snacks and disappeared back into the murky abyss. I stayed back but close enough in to follow the crop of truckers heading off to the showers. It was usually the first place many of them ran off to before diving into the action because many of the high-end truck stops didn’t afford these men the luxury of really washing the road away by allowing them to stay under the warm water forever. I admired them from afar: the soaps, the budding lathers; my growing cock and my twitching binky. Truckers always made me feel a certain way: the reality of them, not the illusion of them. Those strong trucker jocks grunting and groaning and refusing to give a damn other than getting from one point to the next.

I learned a long time ago to separate the fantasy from the myth, to let go of the daydream of some big burly trucker throwing me over his shoulders and whisking me off to the back of his sleeper berth to have his way with me. Often, more to my disappointment than not, most of the truckers I come across were bottoms often too drained to put in the work to ever really indulge their fancy. But then, ever so often, when no one was looking or paying attention that glorious beam of light shone through revealing the ultimate trucker daddy waltzing through the door of the adult arcade. Ten-hour plus shift commanding the road mixed with the sexual aggression commanding his beefy pole desperate to batter as many buttholes as possible in his time off. Sleep? Who needs sleep?! And yes, thick bastards like these generally have the most awesome of dicks!

But alas, trucker daddies don’t fancy guys like me that are versed in quarks and understand that pi is infinite. They want those young pretty boys that bop their head on musty crotches to the latest beat while looking like and sounding like a chick without the lot lizard prices. So, guys like me sit in the shadows and wait, wait for the proverbial final call and finger curl when all young pretty boys skipped that particular night.

No such luck. For every trucker daddy that night there were two boys in waiting while the third was being thoroughly pumped and ploughed with seed.

As I slowly moved across the floor of the gloomy arcade in wander action practically flooded my ears from every dark hole. From the video booths to the public and private rooms to the mazes and gloryholes echoed moans and groans and the indistinguishable plops that came from well-lubed penetrations, sometimes blessing me with a sneak peak into its wonderful reveal.

My eyes were locked on my favored trucker daddy of the night, this big burly motherfucker with a churning sea of thick black hair. He was roughly taking the mouth of this pretty boy when my ears were invaded by a deafening slap. I was startled by the noise—so were others. Though, I thought nothing of it looking at the man in front of me grabbing a head full of hair and fucking a sleeve of throat with his mighty engorged cock. A loud screech soon followed by an emission of submission through a grunt and a yelp and a lingering groan. I was soon swept away by a wave toss of heated bodies eager to see this newest commotion before I found myself standing in another entryway. There, I was looking into a dark room where my former captor from the video booth was atop this sweet-looking pretty boy on the padded seat mounting him for the surrounding audience.

“Shut up, faggot. Be a good boy and take dick! That’s right, boy. That’s it. I knew you were hungry for it. Don’t fight. Relax. Daddy’s got this hole. Daddy’s got this faggot’s hole. You’re not going nowhere…not no time soon, no way…not until I’m done with your faggot ass!”

I winced with compassion, listening to the boy get use to the anal impaler invading and stretching him out. The boy yelped and cried and eventually yielded his total resignation to this monster. Perhaps such a take should have made my captor a kinder beast rather than just the opposite watching him gyrate his pelvic bone even harder into him, butt cheeks clenching with every mighty thrust. After several agonizing grunts from the bottom and a few infuriating barks from the top, I saw my former captor’s hand draw back and his hand ferociously land across the boy’s pretty face beneath him followed by a wad of spit hurled after it.

“Slut,” my former captor gnarled, sheen with sweat, slapping and smearing his spit in the face of his newest captor.

He gorilla fucked him mercilessly after that, shaking the padded seated with as much force as an earthquake. The boy tried to escape. It did no good. The boy wasn’t going anywhere—not until he was done.

“Did I say you could play with your cock, boy?” My monster growled again.

Even in this roughness, of my captor now pulling completely out and driving it back in with each yap louder than the last, I was surprised to find the boy frantically grabbing his cock.

“Do you want it?” My captor posed the question.

“Hell fucking yeah!” The boy sounded off in his restlessness.

“Here it comes then.”

My binky twitched violently at the plunder that soon revealed itself. I got jealous and I got mad, foolishly turning down such a glorious fuck that the boy seemingly enjoyed thoroughly.

 

I was actually his first choice, I walked away devastated and heartbroken. A guy like me…

I walked around aimlessly for an hour after that. I replayed my missed opportunity with the real chance I actually had with my captor back in the booth. I felt his cock behind my lips, across my tongue and its heavy splooge weighing the top of my head again. I replaced his face in the booth with that of my favored trucker daddy of the night, to ease the mournful ache. And it was my trucker daddy and I fucking on the seat rather than watching my captor monster and that begging slut. I was content after awhile that it was me that got fucked, my twitching binky confirmed in unknown phantom pangs, sometimes seeing my captor also on top of me pounding away.

The fantasy game in my head soon came to a halt when I saw the boy again, the latest captive, limping to the lockers with a look of total euphoria plastered across his sweet face. Bastard, I thought. I knew by the look that my captor was more than enough for him. The boy was going home now well satisfied. I moved passed him and crudely licked the inside of my mouth. I had him and his first load.

Even now, I still don’t know how it happened. I remembered stumbling into a room with men sitting about this padded wooden bench staring out into nothingness, possibly dolor in the loss of a missed lay, when I remembered sitting down at the end of the bench. I was there for a long while before my nude neighbor next to me felt it wise to introduce his mouth to my nipple. I didn’t stop him. Soon I welcomed a second mouth suckling the other nipple with a third around my revealed cock. I gasped when my cocksucker (or some other stranger) nearby fingered my poor crumpled binky.

I closed my eyes briefly—or so I thought. Because when I opened them again, I didn’t feel the mouths and lips pleasuring me. Instead, I felt my body being lifted and this need to grab hold of the bellied man in front of me doing the lifting. I felt something wet and slick and thick fiercely slide across my crack. It was my nature to resist, but I thought about my latest fuss and soon gave in, waiting for the guy underneath me to work the tip in. He encouraged me to lie atop of him moving his hand over my torso. My feet being directly on top of his knees by my lifter as the room cheered at the distinguished plop of thick cock going inside a deep hole.

I hated that I didn’t see the guy first. So I thought about the bastard that told me he loved me and lied and slammed my rear into his lap. Marrying that bitch! But to be quite honest, I was vengeful at the moment and rather relieved now that I didn’t have to reciprocate those complicated feelings. I didn’t have to stay loyal to one or anyone for that matter. I could easily give myself to many without abandon. So I thought about my favored trucker and my captor and rode the lap underneath me switching between both manly men in my mind. I looked and saw my lifter greasing his cock and moved between my spread legs. I wanted to tell him that I never gone that far before, that I didn’t want to, but when the noise found my throat, he was already pushing his way inside. I gasped. I only thought I knew what it felt like to be a whore or a slut before then. I felt my binky being stretched wide and the pressure against my prostate explode with maddening bliss tenfold. Uhhh…guys like me…uhhh…guys like me…uhhh!

My two tops said something to me or amongst themselves or to the room around. I was so caught up in pleasure I was unsure of what that was. It didn’t take genius to know that my binky was just for their cocks, and if I happened to enjoy them both, well, that was just an additional benefit.

We grunted and groaned and long after I felt the slickness of cum build inside of me. I wasn’t sure as to who as no moans of satisfaction came from either of them. My lifter soon retreated. I was pushed forward on the cock still inside me to clean him off and soon take another. “Ride that fucking hog!” The guy behind of me called. With my feet on the ground, I was able to suck the cock in front of me and ride the cock in my rear. I clutched onto both cocks but made the one behind me come. My throat fucker lifted me up off his lap and slammed me into another. I didn’t miss a beat with five other men waiting their turn. My throat fucker was too impatient to let me do my job thoroughly, so he pulled out and shot his load in my face after I was impaled on the third lap more willing to do the fucking than let me do the riding. He came and I was on another lap with the guy in front of me forcing me to suck his nipples before another guy posted next to him wanting me to suck his cock and shot his load in my opened mouth from afar. Bull’s eye! The guy I was riding shot, and as I bent to clean him up another guy helped himself to my battered binky. He wasn’t inside me long before another guy took his place but didn’t enter me until after he came but then let the initial guy replace him.

“Let me fuck him.” The guy inside of me yelled.

The bench was cleared. I was thrown onto my back and pumped again with renewed vigor. He came. Then that guy was replaced by another. Judging by the way he started off and continued it was obviously this was his second go-around with me. And although he maintained his hardness to plough me, he had nothing left in the barrel to shoot the load as he threatened, as he promised. But the last guy however, in all his rigorous vigor, made up for his shortcoming and left me with my legs open making me feel like a prostitute being pushed out of a moving car with his trucker cronies following suit out the room.

I chuckled in my head. All that was missing was him hitching up a pair of flannel bottoms. Usually, I would have been mortified. I had my ways, but nothing of this sort. Not of a gangbang or an orgy. I was able to endure this humiliation because even through all this I never really came down from the raw sensation of having two guys at once. If anything, I was heated twice as much.

It took me awhile to stir upright on the bench and find my towel. My body, my limbs were stiff along with the looseness and counterweight of being stretched by so many cocks and the dump to so many loads. Wow! Guys like me, I thought with a gleaming smile. My smile only widened when I looked over and saw the man standing in the doorway.

“Well, aren’t you an adorable little pup?” My captor monster smirked with his arms folded and legs crossed below his bungfucker.

I swallowed spit. I wasn’t sure if he saw everything that happened before or not, but when I saw his cock again, I wanted it still.

“Don’t worry, kid. I got your M.O. You like an audience with plenty of cocks to play with. And why not? You got the room!”

I shook my head. I spilled my guts, telling him of my regret for not having him in that booth led to this.

He listened intently and then asked moving towards me. “What’s your name kid?”

Seth is my name. But I tell him “Francois.” I don’t feel like Seth tonight. I feel like Francois. Francois, the exotic, the man-whore who lost count of times he got fucked by perfect strangers tonight. “What’s yours?”

“Rocky. Nice meeting you again, kid. Francois. Sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to scare the shit out of you earlier.”

I shook my head. “No need…unless you want to make up for it with a repeat.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” I beamed.

“How about we try something a little different?” Rocky asked offering a kiss.

As I followed him back out to the booths, I passed by my favored trucker obviously looking to get into some more action. Before the thing in the room, I would have considered myself a lucky bastard just to be considered by the one guy in front of me. But after having so many in such a little time, I built up my confidence living out this porn star moment. I reached back and flashed my favorite trucker my swollen binky and soon after felt his warm front nearly pressed against the cool of my back.

“I see you found another friend.” Rocky said after closing the door behind us.

My favored trucker stayed behind me enveloping his burly arms around my stomach as my former captor dropped to his knees in front of me. “Just returning the favor,” Rocky mildly put it. My trucker behind me knocked the towel off my waist and my trucker captor wrapped his lips around my cock.

I was both surprised and amazed. His mouth felt wonderful while he took his time to stir an honest groan of pleasure out of my throat. I moaned at the kisses along my neck, down my back. I trembled when I felt the rush of cool air invade my spread crack, his face in my butt, his tongue against my binky.

I was wrapped in bliss. I took my victory as such for me and guys like me. No sooner than I became a slave to the feeling, I became awash in embarrassment: the cum steadily seeping out of me. He didn’t care, and after awhile I didn’t either.

“Let’s say we fuck him.” Rocky suggested after he mastered to extract a steady stream of pre-cum out of me.

“You first or me?” My favored trucker asked around my rear.

“You first. I’ll finish the horned pup off.” Rocky rose to his feet.

My favored trucker followed his lead and coated his cock with lube from the complimentary dispenser bolted to the wall of the many booths and throughout the arcade. He bent me over, grabbed my ass, and massaged his sizeable cock into me. I winced. Even with all the cock that I had taken before, my binky snapped back as if that was the first one of the night and then being slapped on the ass so hard again and again.

“I guess those boys didn’t really work that hole, huh?” Rocky gleamed at my grimace. “I could’ve really worked it open earlier if you’d let me.”

“We got it now! Nothing but men in here, not no boys.” My favored trucker said, grabbing my shoulder and riding me. “You can’t expect a fucking boy to do a man’s job!”

Rocky squeezed my cheeks together with one hand. He made me look at him, into his eyes with every gathering thrust and then kissed soulfully before my top built up to pure fucking opening up my ass.

My favored trucker slowed down enough so that I could lick the balls and suck the hardened cock seated in front of me skewered between two men as they got comfortable enough in their groove by then to share a high five above my head.

It wasn’t the first that night. These men switched and swapped places so many times that a choking heat was born. Sweat and steam and steam and sweat and lube made slicker by both. We built a wonderful routine of grunts and groans and new positions and loved every minute of it, as it became less about me and my pleasures more about them and their competition, about who could hold out the longest in my ass and in my mouth. If a guy like me got off on it then it was definitely an added bonus.

“Slurp on that fat dick, boy!” Rocky growled in my face, guiding my head over his crotch, thrusting his big balls against my chin and drying out the back of my throat for a second time.

Seconds later. “Sorry buddy. I gotta cut loose. I gotta! You’re just going have to dive into my sloppy seconds! Uhhhh!”

My favored top breathed and trembled and came and shook some more on his comedown from space. He refused to move or let me move until he deposited every drop into me. After he let me go, I thoroughly cleaned him off with my mouth. And after that task was done my original captor took my ass once more.

“I’d been waiting all night to breed this hole!” Rocky growled in one brutal thrust and fucked me for five minutes more.

Rocky didn’t officially announce his “arrival.” He just let out a loud deafening grunt and I felt his dick swell threefold and throb each time it sputtered another new jet of steamy jizz into my swollen binky.

This time when I emerged from the video booth, I stumbled out proudly with Orlando stretched out on the bench of one of the rooms nearly sleep. I looked around and realized that the place was practically empty.

“One o’clock in the afternoon.” Orlando answered my curiosity. “Now that you’ve had your fun, do you remembered what I said before we came over here tonight?”

I laughed. I remembered. Men are natural-born bastards…and guys like me have never been luckier!